


Smith and Patient T-057-90

by Happiness_Is_My_Drug



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Blood Drinking, Fear Play, M/M, Therapy, idfk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happiness_Is_My_Drug/pseuds/Happiness_Is_My_Drug
Summary: Morty  got into  Therapy as a way to see his long lost Grandpa. Was it worth it, though?





	1. Chapter 1

   

The young male steps out of the car. His feet make small crunchy noises as he walks quietly towards the building. There's a slight breeze that  ruffles his hair. It soon fell back into place when he made his way up the concrete steps, and into the quiet but busy working building. 

     Walking across the marble flooring, he made his way over to the chestnut office desk. A decent lady stood there. Hair  combed back, hair gel used as well to make the male assume she had used it as a last resort. Tacky buttoned suit. Purple lipstick. Nothing surprising. Most where like this. As seen on TV and movies. She seems to have been expecting him. Assuming she was the lady he had spoken to over the phone for the past two day's. 

     " Right on time, Mr. Smith. I was worried for a second." The man smiled, pulling out his card.

     " J-Jeez, just call me Morty. T-The title 'S-Smith'  belongs to m-my father." The lady nods in acknowledgment, taking the card and  ringing it up. The data comes up. She pulls on a pair of reading glasses, the screen mirroring onto it just running over the word ' Therapist.'   As told in the phone meeting, Morty was as it was, a therapist. He had been only for two years, content on making people come to a mental conclusion. But that wasn't why he had become one. It had said in the files that his Grandpa was a mental patient. It said that only Therapists could have access, and detailed personal information on said patient. So Morty had done that. He had wanted to see his Grandpa.  Badly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. AP 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some dumb shit.

 

 The man on the couch was sure an interesting sight. He sat, legs crossed, eyes aware. He had tangled blue hair, a trait Morty didn't know anyone could posses. He had pale skin, making him seem almost ghostly if Morty hadn't seen many other patients like this.  He wore an old lab coat. As if a doctor. When asked about it, the workers had said it keeps him calm. Ish. Morty found him interesting. Purely, that he almost forgot his lines, sitting in that chair, on that day, in the fully furnished room. And all the patient had to do was pull on  a giddy grin. One that Morty couldn't tell annoyed him, or awed him. 

     " I-I-I, I'm- I," He had to clear his throat, gripping his clipboard firmly. " Hello. I'm Morty. You must be-" He's cut off almost immediately. 

     " Do you always stutter? Not a very good proper way to start things off," The patient paused to breath in a faint giggle. " But I get it.  Rick. My  names Rick."   Morty knew full well the patients name, and would have pointed it out, if Rick hadn't continued. 

      " Do you always address  like that? Do cuckoo's like me enjoy it? Or was that an accident? How many hours you got on me,  _Morty_?"  Morty felt a tad weird at the way the patient had said his name, but shrugged it off. He waited until Ricks questions where out, before continuing. 

       " So, Rick, why don't you tell me why you're here today?" Rick's smile didn't falter. It was almost obnoxious. 

       " Why are  _you_  here today,  _Morty?_ "   Morty scribbled a few things down. One, this patient, his Grandpa, seemed quite keen to play games. He viewed it as a game, probably. Morty viewed it as a sort of interrogation. 

      " I'm here to t-talk." Rick  crossed his other leg, noting the stutter. "  A-And listen."  Morty went on, noting how quiet Rick had suddenly gotten. Choking the room with his new found silence. " So can y-you tell me why you  killed  your original therapist?"  It had stated that too. Morty had hesitated when he had read it. He had been warned as well. But the camera set up in the room would keep him safe. For now.

      " They were mean. Didn't wanna play my games, _Morty._ "   Morty scribbled a few more notes down, crossed some out, then continued with a fresh, new question for Rick. 

      " So why did you kill those men, R-Rick?"  Rick only smiled still, unfazed by the question, leaning a bit. 

      " Not in front of the camera. Remember that." 


	3. AP 2

" Oh god, what do you mean you think you found him?" Morty leaned against the vanilla white stone pillar, polished nicely for guests, but cracked when you get close enough to it. He had about two minutes on the payphone left, and didn't intend to waste it on his mother scrambling for hidden meanings. He had told her the basics. He had thought he had found Rick. He still thinks he did. It was just a matter of really digging deeper into that giddy child like man in that furnished room.

" H-H-He seems like Rick. But I'm not sure." A long groan is heard from his mother, yelling in the background. Jerry had probably gotten home early from his job. Since it was about Three-Thirty. And Jerry usually got home at Five-Fifty. Pity though. He hated calling when Jerry was home. He really didn't like his father. But who did?

" How are you not sure? Didn't you listen when I said he had blue hair?" Beth may have not known what her father ideally looked like. But she remembered blue hair when she saw it. Even if she were only Seven at the time. It was just a dominant trait. Morty bit his lip in frustration.

" Oh course! How could I not!? You str-stressed it to the p-point it's molded into my g-gosh darn b-brain!" He winced, glancing behind his shoulder at the frozen people and the strange looks they threw him. Just great. Pissy start, pissy end. This wasn't his day. That much was true.

" Listen mom, I-I gotta go. I'll re-open this when I speak more to him. B-Bye, I love y-you." Morty hung up before Beth could respond, or start her protest. He sighed, sitting the smooth black phone back down in it's rightful place. This would be a struggle.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

" I made you something, Morty." Rick had another grin plastered on his face. This would be the second time they had met in this furnished, quiet room, and Morty noted that Rick had acted as if he hadn't just been introduced to him yesterday. Morty still felt odd when the patient spoke his name, but he shrugged it off mostly and continued. He smiled, his acting getting juiced up.

" Oh? May I see it?" Rick frowned.  
" The mean guys have my hands cuffed. I can't. I'm sorry." Ah, Morty understood. Another game. Or trick. It was obvious that Rick wanted the cuffs off. The cuffs that kept his hands together and possible off of Morty's exposed throat. Morty wasn't as stupid as he seemed. Or he was, but was smart enough to see this. But he found a few minutes of sitting in silence, Rick smiling like a toddler and rocking back and forth. That's all it took for Morty to get up, walk cautiously towards the door, and make a phone call. A few seconds of hushed speaking, Rick still smiling, still rocking back and forth- but a bit faster- and two other men step in. Minute later, the cuffs are taken off, and Rick stares at his own hands. He stares like a child waking up on Christmas and seeking carefully wrapped presents, ready for said child to open. +

" So, t-this gift?" Morty pulled Rick back into focus, sitting back down in the chair. Rick pulls a crumpled paper from one of his pockets, handing it to the other younger male. Morty takes it, uncrumpling it.

 

 

                                   

 

 

  

" Oh.....i-it's..." Morty couldn't describe it. Rick seemed triumphant.

" Do you like it, Morty?" Morty nods, folding it neatly and slipping it into his pocket. For later.

" I-I like it a lot, Rick. You seem to have very good art skills." Rick flashed a modest look.

" Everything looks better with a bit of red, don't you think, M. Smith?" Morty nodded curtly, finding it hard to continue the thin smile on his lips. Well, this was his grandpa, right? The one he had been searching for, looking for, for years, correct? Morty just didn't think it would be this bad. Maybe it wasn't worth it.  


	4. AP 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rushed stuff cuz I'm runnin' outta plot.

  "  Do you like  woman, Rick?"  It was now day three.  The previous day had left Morty bumbling for answers. It wasn't about how Rick was really his Grandpa. Wasn't about how Rick's gray glassy eyes made Morty as uncomfortable as when Rick said his name. It was the drawing...that gosh darn stupid ass drawing. It made no sense. Morty couldn't understand the scribbles. The sloppy work. Who the red people were.

Morty hated what he couldn't understand.   

   Maybe that's why he has started resenting this person presumed to be his Grandpa. He couldn't understand how the man who  his mother had rambled on about for years to come could just be some fucked up mental patient. The man Morty was told had been so kind. So smart. But only in stories. 

    " M, Smith?" Rick pulls Morty back into reality. He repeats his answer, watching the dumbfounded look on Morty's face.  

    " I do like woman, M, Smith. Their very pretty. I like their eyes and jewelry. It's rather shiny." Morty scribbles down a few notes, crossing previous ones out. Till now he assumed Rick was gay. And he had a reason why he would assume such a thing. It would lace the question he set down next. 

    " Do you know....Diane Sanchez?"   Rick pauses. Morty is too content on notes to fully focus on the sudden silence, sudden loss of smiley humor the man had  warmed the room with. 

     " She has my last name, M, Smith." Rick goes back to smiling. " Small world, huh?? Should I know her?"  Morty gave him a grim look. 

     " Yes. " 

 

  _He had seen many bodies. Many victims  with their lungs ripped out or guts sprawled all over. Many dressed. Many naked, raped even. Many bald. Many hairy. All shapes and sizes. All colors or genders. But his Grandma had truly shook him. Shook him in a way he wouldn't recover. Though his Grandma wasn't the only female victim found with the same wounds._ _The victim looked so young. No wrinkles. In her late 20's or 30's. Hair combed back and beach blonde, much like his own mothers. The victim had looked as if she were sleeping. It was that simple. That hard for him not to reach out and touch her cheek. Expect warm skin under his touch instead of cold, lifeless skin. He didn't dare touch her, however. Assortments of bruises painted her arms and legs, coloring her neck and chest like finger paint. Her eyes. They had been gouged out. Hung right next to the body as if the killer had been trying to tidy up for the cops. Now  her eyes were eternally closed. As much as he wanted to know, he wouldn't ask what was on her back. He had already seen pictures of how the victim had been found. stomach ripped open, eyes gouged out, sprawled across the stone floor. Cum dripping out from within.  That's what he had been shown. Now years later, the body had never been buried. Repaired. Stitched. Locked away in the station.  A sacred place. The child knew nothing. When police had arrived, she was alone. No adult to hold her and explain things. They had searched. They found no sign of a break in. The little girl barely spoke. But the police still recalled looking upon the organs with  bloody scribbles covering them, disgusting words of admiration painted on the victims own legs with the victims own blood,  sickening words, and the little girl  finally uttering a sentence._

_" Daddy did it."   And Morty knew what his mother had meant._

 

   " Sorry M, Smith. "    Rick shrugs it off.  " Dunno anyone. But it's cool she had my last name."   Morty nodded.

     " Do you consider Last names to be important?"   What a dumbass question. Good job, Morty.

 


	5. Yoo.

This is uh..dead.

Sorry? It was the heat of the moment kinda story and I don't really care about it now...


End file.
